Miniature Disasters
by toestastegood
Summary: A selection of several different drabbles. Multiple pairings and characters.
1. Letter

Character: Sawyer

_

* * *

Do it. Just do it._

His letter hung precariously over the flickering flame of his lighter. One small movement, and it could be gone. He could be free.

The words on the paper had been read so often that he could recite them by heart – and what use did he have for it now? There was no way to find that Mr. Sawyer on this island. No hope of rescue.

_And yet…_

And yet, and yet, and yet.

He couldn't do it. Never willingly. Getting rid of the letter like that would be giving up, and he would not give up.

He flicked the lighter shut again with a stubborn click.

Not today.

His letter hung precariously over the flickering flame of his lighter. One small movement, and it could be gone. He could be free.The words on the paper had been read so often that he could recite them by heart – and what use did he have for it now? There was no way to find that Mr. Sawyer on this island. No hope of rescue.And yet…And yet, and yet, and yet.He couldn't do it. Never willingly. Getting rid of the letter like that would be giving up, and he would give up.He flicked the lighter shut again with a stubborn click. 


	2. Picture Perfect

Pairing: Charlie/Sawyer, future fic

* * *

The waves lapped over the shore, keeping Jin's nets stocked heavily with fish, while the sun beat down and kept the jungle alive and stuffy. Wooden huts, erected months ago, kept the islanders protected from the midday heat, while an elaborate and impressive design of bamboo pipes provided drinking water.

Flight 815 had landed on this drop of land years ago; the survivors had had no choice but to grasp together a meagre existence, in the beginning. As they adapted and grew on the island, their community did too. Now, this place could give them anything and everything they could need or desire.

Staring out of the window, a hole in the wall with shutters to close at night, Charlie neutrally observed the island's simple events; the wind whipping over the sand, Sun and Jin struggling with the twins by their hut, Desmond and Claire walking off happily to their far-off picnic.

In the distance, if he strained to see it, he'd be able to make out the small wooden gate that surrounded their cemetery. Fewer graves had had to be added to it in this past year: by now, they'd learned to live here. Survival of the fittest, and all that jazz.

He looked away from the window as the door to their hut opened, Sawyer entering. With his hair tied back, thick stubble against his face, Sawyer looked exhausted. He'd been out chopping wood for the fire, Charlie would guess from the sight of the sweat on his bare chest.

His gaze was drawn back to the window, back to the scene outside and the sight of Jack and Kate there, still flirting after all these years, even with Kate's belly swollen and pregnant.

A small smile appeared on his face when Sawyer's arms slipped around his waist from behind. "It's pretty perfect here, isn't it?" he said, as if he'd just noticed it.

Sawyer murmured something – no doubt something bitchy and snarky, so Charlie was glad that he hadn't heard it – before pressing his lips against the back of Charlie's neck. "If you say so," he eventually said.

At least that wasn't out-and-out disagreement, Charlie mused as they both fell silent again, just watching the lives passing by outside the window.


	3. Welcome To The Afterlife

Pairing: Ana-Lucia/Shannon

* * *

She never even met the girl – never got the chance, and she didn't go to the funeral.

She just _couldn't_, y'know? It would've felt wrong, dirty; like bugs crawling over her skin: like the dirt being thrown over Shannon's body was being forced over her too. Murderers don't go to their victim's funeral. It's just polite, alright?

So when Ana-Lucia's eyes blinked open to see a blue gaze settled calmly on her, she froze.

Not 'cause there was a dead woman in front of her - gun-shot to the chest by _Michael_ of all people; she knew she wasn't gonna survive that – but 'cause Shannon wasn't glaring.

She wasn't scowling.

She wasn't hissing out threats and promises of revenge.

She was smiling.

"God, finally. I thought I was gonna be stuck here with Boone for the rest of my afterlife," Shannon said, reaching out to take Ana's hand and yank her out of her dead body as Michael and Henry talked in the background; the two living men didn't notice for a second the ghosts standing in front of them.

Shannon stayed grinning at Ana-Lucia's bemused expression. "Welcome to the afterlife."


	4. A Lack of Love in Paris

Pairing: Boone/Shannon

* * *

Having only lived here for a week so far, Shannon supposed that she was a little under-qualified to make this judgement – but since when had _that_ ever stopped her?

She'd come right out here and say it: Paris sucked.

The food sucked. The language sucked. The men sucked.

Everything just sucked, alright?

She wanted to go back home. Back to Boone, back to her old life – back to her daddy. But he was gone and Boone was…

Well. Suffice to say, she was beginning to think that she and Boone were a little too close for comfort. It was useful and all, but she just couldn't risk having that temptation near her. Too much, too soon, too real.

All that shit.

Leaning against the back of the elevator, going up to the top level of a shopping mall she wasn't all that interested in visiting, Shannon closed her eyes and listened to the loud bustle of the French language around her. She'd get through this.

She _would_ get through this.

And in the meantime, she'd shop. She was good at that.


	5. Hotel Rooms

Pairing: Claire/Kate, future fic

* * *

Claire knows, even as Kate's fingers brush against her own, that Kate's not going to stay.

Kate's a runner – and she doesn't have much choice about that. As their rescues proves, the police are still on the lookout.

Her Kate, a murderer: it doesn't seem to add up, but Claire doesn't have time for questions. There's hardly even time for Kate's rushed _I'm sorry_: the kiss that crashes against her lips is desperate and rushed.

But it's still Kate, Kate's taste in her mouth and on her lips, and it's impossible for Claire to realise that this is _it_.

Even once the door slams shut and Kate vanishes out of sight, Claire can't understand that they're never going to see each other again. She sits down on the plush hotel bed that she was sharing with Kate just hours ago, and only one thought can run through her mind: what the hell is she supposed to do now?


	6. Creatures

Pairing: Jack/Sawyer

* * *

"Michael, what's going on?" Jack asked, but he was unable to take his eyes off the truly bizarre scene in front of him: Sawyer had just sunk to an all-time low. He was fighting with a ten year old.

More important than that, it looked like he was _losing_.

Jack was too far away to truly be able to make out what they were saying, but it definitely looked like Walt had Sawyer whipped – much to Sawyer's disgruntlement.

Michael shook his head, leaning back against the raft. "Vincent ran off – I think he might've trashed Sawyer's stash."

Despite himself, Jack started to smile. "Sawyer must be annoyed."

Michael shrugged. "Walt can handle him."

Jack nodded, as Walt stubbornly stamped his foot on the sand and Sawyer backed off a step. Even someone who liked to appear as big and mean as Sawyer seemed to cower in the face of a childhood tantrum. Jack couldn't really blame him for that.

But he _could_ tease him for it later that night, when they were alone.

In the meantime, though, he knew he had to go and intervene – before Walt and Vincent managed to get Sawyer to submit and reduce him to tears.


	7. Can't Take That Away

A selection of the Lost drabbles that I have written. They're all unconnected.

* * *

Title: Can't Take That Away  
Characters: Charlie  
Rating: PG  
Word Count: 98  
A/N: Written for the **wordschallenge** prompt, 'music'.

It was easier to focus on his guitar than anything else.

Easier to follow a melody, chase a song, pluck the right notes and hope for the best than think about what was happening right now: the plane crash, the island, the withdrawal, Claire…

None of it mattered when he picked up this frail instrument. The world faded away to this – to music.

He might've lost civilisation and he might've lost his drugs, but he still had one precious little thing left: his talent.

That was one thing that no one was allowed to take away from him.


	8. Narita

Pairing: Charlie/Sawyer, future fic

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* * *

_

The sun sets in the West, so once they were rescued Sawyer ran from it – as far and fast as he could. From the sun, from the island, from the past. He just hadn't banked on the past following him, in the shape of a bratty Brit who talked constantly.

"Charlie!" he snapped, as they walked out of the airport and the Tokyo air hit them, along with a busy crowd. They'd met up at baggage control, accidentally – Charlie hadn't stopped talking since.

He stopped at the sound of his name, though. Finally. "What?"

"Stay quiet. Suits you better."

"Piss off."

"You're the one following me, kid - leave me alone if I'm annoying you."

"No." They walked down the crowded steps, crushed in by bodies on all sides. Charlie's guitar, slung over his shoulder, was in danger of bashing someone on the head. Charlie, on the other hand, seemed more in danger of getting swept away by the chattering crowds. He scowled, and grabbed Sawyer's hand – holding on tight. "You and me, mate. We're sticking together."

Sawyer rolled his eyes and held back from telling Charlie that he was an idiot – but he didn't let go of his hand.


End file.
